


Move On

by Literal_Antique_Trash



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: He's homeless, M/M, ford is a bit of a jerk, math teachers aren't that bad, poor stan, trash can't do tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6440443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literal_Antique_Trash/pseuds/Literal_Antique_Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford stared down at his desk, trying to avoid looking at Stanley at all costs. Tapping his pencil against the desk, he glances at his work- which was blank for the first time in his life. He didn’t need Stanley, he desperately reminded himself, he was fine on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move On

Stanford stared down at his desk, trying to avoid looking at Stanley at all costs. Tapping his pencil against the desk, he glances at his work- which was blank for the first time in his life. He didn’t need Stanley, he desperately reminded himself, he was fine on his own. It had been exactly six months since Stanley had been kicked out of their home, only staying in Glass Shard to get his diploma. Their father had been less than pleased to know that he was still in the city, but he refrained from going after him, if only by his mother’s teary request. She had wanted to seek him out, to bring him home- but hadn’t known where Stanley was staying- if he had a place to stay at all. From what Stanford had heard, Stanley was now living out of his car and he believed it.

Stanley had gotten so thin, the adorable layer of baby fat that had clung to his cheeks and belly gone. Deep bags lined tired eyes, contrasting the pale complexion of his younger brothers skin. The hair that Stanford had once ran his fingers through was now limp and lifeless, hanging in Stanley’s face, begging to be moved by Stanford’s twitching fingers. Stanley was desperately trying to stay awake but Stanford noticed the way that his head would dip down slowly only to shoot back up as Stanley blinked wildly.

“Mr.Pines?” Came the voice of their mathematics teacher, Mr. Fowler.

Stanford ducked his head, hiding his pink cheeks as he glanced up to look at the man who’d caught him. The blush was replaced by a confused frown because Mr.Fowl was not looking at him, he was looking at Stanley with concerned eyes. Turning his head, he looked at Stanley.

Stanley had fallen asleep on the desk, his body hunched uncomfortably in the small seat. His breathing was slightly labored and it broke Stanford’s heart because he’d never seen Stanley look so small before. Mr.Fowl gave the boy another look before tuning back around. A few minutes of sleep would do Stanley some good. Stanford sighed, turning back to the lesson because he couldn’t help, even if he all he wanted was to cradle Stanley to his chest and never let him go.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re alright, Stanley?” Mr. Fowler asked for the umpteenth time, staring up at him with concern.  


Stanley tried to smile at the man, but it quivered too many times to ever be genuine. Fowler didn’t buy it, raising a thin brow up at him and crossing his arms. The gesture made Stanley chuckle a bit, seeing as it was the same look he’d get for not doing the homework that’d been assigned.   
  
“I’m fine, just a little tired.” He lied easily, shrugging of the teacher’s concern.   
  
Mr. Fowler frowned again and sighed, making Stanley flinch a bit. Mr. Fowler wasn’t a particularly large or strong man, in fact, he was short and had a gut that showed that he was well fed. But his words had a sharp edge that made Stanley and many others of his classmates afraid to gain the man’s ire.   


Mr. Fowler watched him, taking in the shadow of the brash, happy boy that used to stand in his place. From his own experience, he knew that Stanley had to be starving and exhausted. It was not easy being homeless. Patting Stanley’s shoulder, he rooted around his desk and pulled out a paper bag.   
  
“Open this later.” He instructed, handing it to the boy with a small smile.

Stanley was confused, but nodded and gave a farewell to his teacher. The man sighed, smiling softly.

Stanley was curled up into the backseat of the Stanley mobile, shivering as he pulled the thread bare blanket over his shoulders. He was so tired and he wanted nothing more than to sink against the leather seat, but his stomach wouldn’t allow it, growling furiously. Sighing, the boy pulled out the bag his teacher gave him, opening it up and gasping.   


There was money in the bag. Two hundred dollars to be exact as Stanley counted it, tears streaming down his cheeks. He shakily pocketed the cash, his heart warm with affection.   
  
He hadn’t been treated this kindly in a long time. 

* * *

Stanford was not jealous.   


He wasn’t despite what his own mind told him. He was not jealous of the _something_ that made Stanley so happy. He wasn’t jealous of the small smile that had stayed on Stanley’s face he sat in his seat, taking down notes. Stanford was not jealous as Stanley walked out of the school with a skip in his step. 

He wasn’t jealous of the way Stanley was slowly getting better and moving on, away from Stanford and taking his heart with him.

He wasn’t jealous.

* * *

Stanley walked back to his car, reeking of fish guts and musk. He’d have to shower in the locker rooms when he got to school in the morning. Sighing, he shrugged off his jacket, hanging it over his shoulder.  
  
“Stanley!”   
  
He froze, head snapping upwards and staring wide eyed at Stanford as he ran over to him. Stanford looked angry, his eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists. It made Stanley want to run but he stayed put, looking at Stanford in fear when they were face to face.  


“Ford?” He asked quietly.  
  
Stanford growled lightly, pulling his twin into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue. Stanley whimpered, curling his hands into Stanford’s shirt and pulling him closer. Stanford wrapped his arms around the younger’s waist, growling lowly. They kissed feverishly until Stanley pulled away, shaking his head as tears pricked his eyes.   


He wanted Stanford- god did he want Stanford, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t put his heart on the line again. Pushing away, he ran- leaving Stanford and his broken heart behind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it!


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